


family

by ThatsrightZoeyeyye



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gandia doesn't shoot her, Nairobi POV, everyone lives and they escape the bank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23575165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsrightZoeyeyye/pseuds/ThatsrightZoeyeyye
Summary: MAJOR S4 SPOILERSShe heard gunshots, felt her muscles tense, ready for the hit. She remembered Alex’s sleeping face one last time, his soft curls and quiet breathing, his bright smile and bubbling laugh.But she felt nothing. She heard someone fall, heard a head hit the ground, heard the clatter of guns being dropped. She opened her eyes to see Gandía on the floor, his vest damaged in so many places she wondered if any of his ribs was intact. Palermo and Denver grabbed him by the arms, pulled him to his feet, and he grunted, obviously in pain.Nairobi felt Helsinki’s arms wrap around her, and her mind went blank.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 21
Kudos: 87





	family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nairobi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nairobi).



> i am PISSED i am HEARTBROKEN i am DISAPPOINTED i needed nairobi to live and there are currently no fics with her as the main character, so i had to do the job myself. i slapped this together in a day and a half, so it certainly isn't as good as those 40k serquel aus, but i'm actually pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so enjoy naoirobi being alive and not dead and a wonderful badass angel

Nairobi felt Gandía let go of her and she stumbled, her body too weak to keep standing, her mind fogged by morphine, exhaustion and the constant fear of death that had left her numb, too present to keep feeling.

She thought, briefly, that if he shot her right then she wouldn’t have time to react. That if anything happened, she would be dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. But after the events of the past few days, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. She was too tired to tempt fate. She wanted to live, desperately, but didn’t have any more strength to try.

She took one step towards her friends. None of them were looking at her, eyes and guns raised towards Gandía, unmoving. The deal was done, he’d freed her, they were supposed to let him go.

But they all knew it wouldn’t end like that. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gandía raise his gun. She closed her eyes.

She heard gunshots, felt her muscles tense, ready for the hit. She remembered Alex’s sleeping face one last time, his soft curls and quiet breathing, his bright smile and bubbling laugh.

Would he shoot her in the head, make it quick, no second thoughts? Or a lung, the stomach, the collarbone, to make her death long and painful, once again? They wouldn’t be able to save her a third time.

But she felt nothing. She heard someone fall, heard a head hit the ground, heard the clatter of guns being dropped. She opened her eyes to see Gandía on the floor, his vest damaged in so many places she wondered if any of his ribs was intact. Palermo and Denver grabbed him by the arms, pulled him to his feet, and he grunted, obviously in pain.

Nairobi felt Helsinki’s arms wrap around her, and her mind went blank.

***

When she woke up, at first she thought she’d dreamt it all. She was laying on her makeshift bed, Paquita humming old songs next to her.

She hoped, for a moment, that none of that had happened, that Gandía was still attached downstairs, that Tokyo was with them, that Palermo hadn’t planned a ridiculous escape and betrayed them.

But the pain in her hand brought her to reality. The morphine must have worn out slightly, because she could clearly feel every place where she’d been hurt, every wound and cut and bruise.

She opened her eyes to find herself in an almost complete darkness, the only light coming from the steadily beeping monitors and the lamp on the desk a few feet away.

Her throat was desperately dry. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, nor how long ago she had last been able to have water. She tried to speak, but no sound would pass, and she ended up choking on air, every cough painfully forcing through her throat.

She heard Mónica call her name, heard her come to her, felt the smooth, cold skin of her hands softly brushing on her forehead.

“Water,” she finally managed to croak, and Mónica helped her sit up.

Paquita brought a water bottle, and the liquid tore through her throat, making her cough again. After a few tries, she was finally able to appreciate it, rinsing away the stale taste of blood in her mouth.

“Where’s Gandía?” she asked once she was laying back down, Mónica’s hands holding her uninjured one.

“Denver and Bogotá are watching him,” she answered, her voice slightly trembling with anger, “he won’t escape this time.”

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Nairobi muttered, “I respect the ‘no blood’ rule, but he is too dangerous.”

“We need him for plan Paris.”

“It’s started?”

“Tomorrow,” Mónica whispered, brushing a hand through Nairobi’s hair again, “but for now, you need to rest.”

She tried to protest, but her eyes were already closing, and she fell asleep.

***

The next time she woke up, the sun was up. She felt a little better, her mind clearer, her wounds burning with less of a searing pain and more of a persistent sting. She breathed in more deeply, trying to get rid of the last traces of sleep clouding her head.

“Good afternoon, sleeping beauty,” she heard Tokyo’s voice murmur next to her.

She opened her eyes and smiled at the other woman, feeling a rush of happiness at the sight of her friend, watching her with a gentle, comforting look in her eyes.

“How long have I been asleep?” Nairobi asked.

“About twelve hours since you talked to Mónica,” Tokyo answered, “almost twenty since we caught Terminator dick.”

She felt panic run through her body at the realization of how much of the heist she had missed. She hoped the boys hadn’t stopped melting the gold since the last time she’d seen them.

“Don’t worry,” Tokyo seemed to read her thoughts, “you haven’t missed much. Tamayo is still trying to deal with the repercussions of Sierra’s speech, your boys have less than two tons left to melt, and we have the situation under control.”

She paused for a second, tilting her head with a disgusted smirk.

“You did miss something,” she growled, “Arturito is a rapist. We had to isolate him from the other hostages, we tied him up next to Gandía.”

Cold rage ran through Nairobi for a moment.

“Disappointed, but not surprised,” she uttered through clenched teeth.

Tokyo let out an angry chuckle.

“Manila had to reveal herself after he took Matías’ gun,” she added after a minute, “she’s getting your job done, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Can I at least give my boys a visit?” Nairobi asked, “I’m the only one who really knows how to deal with the gold.”

Tokyo tilted her head, agreeing.

“You’re the only you,” she said softly, “all of this would be sad if you weren’t here.”

Nairobi smiled, and Tokyo squeezed her hand.

***

The heat of the foundry was somehow comforting. It was heavy, and she felt sweat dampen her clothes mere minutes after walking in, but she never felt as powerful as during those two hours, as these grown men bowed their heads and obeyed her even though she could barely stand and her body was broken in every place.

She bellowed orders, sang along to their music and revelled in their unwavering energy and enthusiasm. Their moment of weakness was forgotten, with the Gandía threat eliminated.

Exhaustion quickly caught her, however, as her legs began to shake and the pain in her hand resonated through her bones. Relief flooded her body as she saw Estocolmo and Denver walk through the elevator doors.

“It’s time for me to leave again, sweethearts,” she shouted, sitting back down on her strange wheelchair, “I’ll come back in a few hours.”

A chorus of goodbyes answered her, and she smiled at her friends. Río was waiting for her in the elevator.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” she asked, smiling at his sight. She hadn’t seen him after the interview, didn’t really know how he felt.

He smiled weakly.

“I can still stand on my own two legs for more than two hours,” he chuckled lightly, “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Just because other people are in a worse position than you are,” she asserted, “doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to feel bad yourself.”

He lowered his eyes, shuffling from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“Río,” she insisted, taking his hand to get his attention, “what you have gone through is more than what most people on this planet have ever experienced. If you need to rest, don’t hesitate. We’ll handle the situation. Take care of yourself.”

He smiled weakly.

“For now I’m assigned to your protection,” he explained, “we don’t want to leave you alone. Just in case.”

She nodded.

“Well, my brave security guard,” she laughed, “take me to the governor’s office, I have assholes to visit.”

The elevator doors opened and she drove out, Río trotting behind her.

“Are you sure you want to see them?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“If they’re properly attached, there’s no danger,” she affirmed, “I want to metaphorically spit in their faces.”

The boy snorted.

“Race you there!” she exclaimed, driving faster through the corridor.

“It’s not fair!” he cried after her, picking up the pace.

They reached the room, and the corner of Nairobi’s mouth shot into a smile at the sight of two of the men she despised the most, glaring at her from their seats.

On one side of the room, Gandía was seated, his hands attached three feet apart, so he wouldn’t be able to escape a second time. A piece of fabric was tied around his head and stuck in his mouth, keeping him from speaking, saliva running down his chin. He looked pathetic.

On the other side sat Arturo Román, his hands simply handcuffed at the back of the chair (it was obvious he would never dislocate any of his thumb). His feet were attached with rope, and he had a piece of rough tape on his mouth. He tried to look angry, but couldn’t hide the fear from flashing in his eyes.

Nairobi hummed with satisfaction.

“If it isn’t my two least favourite cowards,” she mused, resentment clear in her voice despite her smile.

“A rapist and a murderer,” she spat, “if it weren’t for my decent moral code, I’d have killed you both by now.”

She revelled in the hate that seeped from their eyes.

“This gives me ideas,” she said, “Río, sweetheart, could you find me a sharpie?”

He looked at her hesitantly, confused, and searched the governor’s desk drawers, throwing away papers, taking gun ammunition and shoving them in his pockets, until he finally found a thick marker.

He handed it to Nairobi, still looking uncertain.

“Will you help me up, dear?” she whispered.

He put his arms under her shoulders, pulling her up, and only let her go when she gave him a reassuring smile. Her legs were shaking slightly from the effort, but she walked up to the former director of the Royal Mint and carefully drew six letters on his forehead. There was something very satisfying, seeing the man recognise the shape of each of them, his jaw clenching.

She took a step back to admire her work.

“Very informative,” she grinned, “that way when the police find you, they’ll know how heroic you are,” she insisted on the adjective, glad to see him flinch.

She turned to Gandía, took a step towards him, and he pulled on his chains, grunting under the effort, his eyes fixed on her, apprehensive.

“As far as I’m aware, you aren’t a rapist” Nairobi said, “although I wouldn’t put it past you.”

There was disgust in his eyes, and he shook his head vigorously.

“I hope for the sake of your wife that you’re honest with me here,” Nairobi answered, “but even if you’re not a rapist, you’re a murderer, which isn’t good either.”

He tried to break free, but she gripped his jaw tightly and wrote the word on his forehead.

“We can go now,” she told Río once her work was done, and she let herself fall on her chair.

***

After a long nap, a visit to the foundry, and a trip to the panic room, they were up the stairs on the roof level. Helsinki had had to carry her up the stairs, her chair useless and her legs still too weak.

The helicopter dropped a figure clad in a police uniform, gunshots fired some more, Gandía tried to break free and Bogotá slammed his head against the rails, and soon everyone was inside.

Lisboa removed her helmet, letting her hair gracefully fall down her shoulders, and everyone sighed with relief, although they knew it would be her. She smiled wide, her eyes watering with emotion.

“Nairobi?” she cried, “I thought you were dead. Inside the tent, they said-”

She was interrupted as Nairobi threw herself in her arms, hugging her close.

“Plan Paris is a success,” she heard Palermo say to the Professor, “Lisboa is inside with us, we’re returning inside.”

“Congratulations, team,” he answered, “you can rest a little now. I’ll notify you when the next part of the plan starts.”

Nairobi pulled away from the hug.

“Welcome to the Bank of Spain,” she cheered, smiling at her colleague and friend.

They all laughed, relieving the tension, bubbling with happiness. Bogotá grabbed Gandía and Nairobi climbed back in Helsinki’s arms.

Back in the office, they attached Gandía to his chair and walked to the library, leaving Bogotá and Helsinki to watch them.

When they reached the library, the hostages were seated in silence.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Palermo’s voice boomed, “I have an announcement to make. Please stand up.”

They looked up at him, confused, without moving.

“Come on,” he insisted, “on your feet, standing up, quickly.”

One by one, they got up to their feet, a quiet murmur of questions running through the room.

“In silence,” Matías yelled, and the voices died out.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Palermo repeated, “I am proud and delighted to announce that we have been joined by Lisboa, former Inspector and negotiator of the Spanish police. She will stay amongst us for the rest of our visit.”

The hostages gasped, staring at Lisboa, who had just walked through the door, standing proudly at Palermo’s side.

“Now,” he exclaimed, “she has braved many adversities to be with us today, and the Professor and his associates on the outside have worked really hard to break her out of prison. I would like you all to clap for her and her rescue team.”

The room stayed silent, the hostages unmoving, frowning with confusion.

“Come on,” Manila growled, “clap.”

The hostages followed their orders, and the robbers joined in. Lisboa smiled, and she hugged Nairobi once more, holding her tight in her arms.

They were interrupted by the Professor’s voice ringing through their earpieces.

“Lisboa, Nairobi and Estocolmo,” he called, his voice shaking, “please take the nurse and go to the phone, I need your help.”

They looked between each other, confused.

“Why all the girls except me?” Tokyo asked, chuckling.

“I am quite sure that what I am asking is out of your expertise,” he answered, “now please, do be quick. This is an emergency,” he hesitated for a second, “I think.”

They rushed away to get the phone, leaving behind a group of confused men and a slightly outraged Tokyo.

“I blew up a tank,” they heard her say from afar, “what can possibly be out of my expertise.”

Nairobi was the first in the room, her chair rolling away faster than the others ran.

“Profesor,” she called, “we’re here, what do you need?”

“Well,” he sighed, his voice shaking again, “I have been found by Alicia Sierra.”

Cold fear ran through her veins, and she could see her panic reflected in Estocolmo and Lisboa’s eyes.

“But she isn’t a threat anymore,” he continued, “she was holding me at gunpoint, but her water broke, so I took away her gun, and now she’s giving birth?”

He sounded afraid, and Nairobi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Professor,” she exclaimed, “there I was thinking Ibiza would be the first newborn baby you’d ever hold in your arms, and now you’re going to have to help another woman give birth.”

“And of course it had to be Alicia,” Lisboa sighed.

“Don’t worry, Raquel,” they heard the negotiator groan, “I won’t steal your boyfriend.”

“Paquita,” Nairobi called, “you said you were a midwife, didn’t you?”

The woman nodded, walking up to them. Lisboa grabbed a pencil and secured her hair away from her face.

“Let’s do this,” she sighed.

***

_ Two weeks earlier, in the Monastery _

“So, Professor,” Nairobi called, “what are we going to do with all that gold? How do we get it out?”

“Actually,” he started, sitting on his desk, “we’re leaving the gold inside.”

There was silence for a second, before they all shouted questions at the same time. The Professor raised his head, tilting his head, a gesture they had long ago gotten used to shutting up upon seeing.

“The original idea of this heist,” he continued, “invented by Palermo and Berlin, was to steal the gold inside the Bank of Spain. However, since we are already rich, we don’t need that gold. And since the government’s stock of gold has a direct impact on the behaviour of the extra-rich, and thus on the economic policies, and thus on the lives of every Spanish citizen and even more, whether they be rich or poor, we have decided that we would leave the gold inside.”

“So why melt it?” Nairobi asked, confused.

“For leverage,” the Professor said, “they’ll be so panicked by the idea of us taking the gold, and so focused on trying to figure out how we’re going to leave with it, that when we go out, they won’t see us leave.”

“I don’t understand,” Denver groaned, “how do we get out?”

“Well,” the Professor answered, a satisfied grin on his face, “in a way they won’t notice us. I call it the Plan Cameleón.”

***

_ Present day, inside the Bank of Spain _

It had been a whole day since Alicia had effectively given birth, and several hours since all the ingots had been successfully melted and made into bubbles of gold.

Alicia was attached to a chair in the Professor’s hangar, her arms free but harmless since she was holding a newborn child (whom they could occasionally hear crying in the background during the Professor’s calls), and they had left the bags of gold on a trail leading far away from them.

They were all standing outside of the library, in police uniforms, guns in hands, masks and helmets on.

The last time the police had tried to come in, they’d opened the doors and let the guards walk out with a box full of trash. They’d written Nairobi’s name on it. As far as they were aware, no one knew that she was alive and well.

The police hadn’t tried to get in after that. Until then.

They were all hooked on the same radio frequency as Suarez’s intervention team, listening intently as he barked orders and responses followed.

Soon enough, the doors were open and the entire team was inside, searching for them.

They waited in silence for a minute, then two, time passing excruciatingly slowly as the hostages got more and more agitated, having been left alone.

Then Palermo nodded, and they all squared their shoulders, getting ready for action.

They walked in the library, satisfied to see that the hostages, as they had asked, were all standing up, masks off.

“We found the hostages in the library,” Manila announced to the police, as scripted, “they are all standing without masks, the robbers aren’t with them. We request permission to escort them out.”

“Permission granted,” they heard Tamayo’s voice answer, sighing with relief, “please be careful. We’ll be waiting for you outside. Suarez, make your way towards the vault, they must be trying to get the gold out. Bring all the remaining men with you.”

Discussion continued, and they made their way down to the hall, the hostages running with them, blissfully unaware of who exactly were escorting them.

The doors had been forced open, the hall was empty. They made their way outside, still acting as though they expected figures in red jumpsuits and Dali masks to shoot them any minute, and made their way towards the tent.

Tamayo welcomed them with a bright smile.

“Great job, gentlemen” he exclaimed, looking like they were bringing him a birthday cake, “we’ll take it from here. You’ve done a great job, go home and rest, you deserve it.”

They walked away and into two police cars, careful not to blow their cover.

They changed cars several times. Changed outfits and disguises. Met Marseilla along the way. Drove for miles and miles, shaking from the adrenaline, not daring to utter a single word.

And then they were back at the Monastery. 

They walked in, stood in the hall in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute, Cincinnati came running and jumped in Mónica’s arms, and they finally let themselves breathe out, laughing from the euphoria, hugging and crying.

“We did it!” Raquel exclaimed, and the others repeated in a victorious chorus. They had done it. They’d rescued Río and gotten out of the Bank of Spain alive.

***

It was two more days before the Professor arrived. They spent those two days celebrating half of the time and pacing nervously around the corridors the other half.

“So Manila,” Nairobi asked during dinner, “how do you feel being an escaped convict on the run from Interpol?”

“I’ve done harder things in my life,” she answered, “this life is frankly okay. This is a nice monastery.”

“We’re not staying here for long,” Raquel interrupted her from where she stood, next to the door, biting her nails, “when Sergio gets here, we wait a couple of months for our trail to get cold and we get out of here.”

“Where?” Helsinki asked.

“Only he knows,” she muttered, “our carriers from last time have been found, we need to find another way.”

“I’m sorry,” Río muttered, “it’s my fault, I gave them their coordinates. I knew the carriers wouldn’t be able to find you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” they heard the Professor say, “only we could contact them, they had no idea where to find us. And even if they did, you were being tortured, it’s only normal that you told them.”

He seemed to want to say something more, but Raquel had thrown herself in his arm, and she was kissing him like the world was going to end. For a second, he looked like he was about to break free and remind her of all the people watching them, but he quickly gave in, abandoning himself in the kiss.

Tokyo and Denver whistled.

“Professor!” Nairobi exclaimed, chuckling.

“My body had the same reaction when my parents kissed or talked about having sex in front of me,” Río laughed.

“You’ll have to get used to it, son,” Raquel told him with a wink, and Sergio blushed, burying his head in her shoulder.

He took a step back, looking in her eyes almost shyly, holding her hands delicately.

“Raquel,” he murmured, his voice trembling, and Nairobi instantly knew what he was going to say.

She tried to contain her excitement as Raquel tilted her head to the side, looking unaware of what was about to happen.

“I know I wasn’t good to you, that moment outside the car before we had to run,” he said.

“You were a real asshole,” Raquel chuckled, and she seemed to see some panic in his eyes, because she brushed a hand on his cheek and smiled, “but it’s okay, I forgive you.”

He let a shy smile cover his face.

“But Raquel,” he whispered, “that moment, when I heard those gunshots, and I thought you’d died,” he breathed in sharply, shaking, “it hurt  _ so _ much,” he was almost sobbing, “I thought that surely I’d been shot too.”

Nairobi looked away, feeling like she was listening in on something that wasn’t meant for her. Tokyo, filming with a phone, clearly didn’t feel the same.

“I can’t live without you, Raquel,” he continued, “I want-’ he paused, “I need to spend every day of my life with you.”

Raquel smiled, although there were tears in her eyes. The Professor grabbed a box in his pocket and got down on one knee, and Raquel started sobbing.

“Raquel,” he asked, looking more nervous than ever before in his life, “will you marry me?”

Denver gasped so loudly Raquel turned his head towards him. And then she was smiling and nodding and falling in Sergio’s arms.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” she sobbed, and they kissed again, in a pile on the floor.

“There are kids in the room, Mr and Mrs Murillo,” Tokyo exclaimed, but Raquel put a middle finger up at her and kept on kissing her fiancé.

***

They didn’t talk about their escape plan until the next day.

“We still need to figure out who goes with whom,” the Professor said during lunch.

“We’re not separating this time,” Nairobi decided, and there was a murmur of agreement around the room.

“It’s dangerous,” the Professor muttered, clutching his fiancée’s hand tightly.

“We’re a family, remember?” Nairobi continued, “those two years without you were good years, because I was rich and free, but you know the happiest moment of my life? It was when I saw you all again, and I held you in my arms, and we were all together again. And I almost died during this heist, three times, so I’m not risking Tokyo getting bored and Río getting captured again. We’re sticking together until the end or I lock us all up in this monastery forever.”

The Professor seemed hesitant for a second, but he finally nodded, smiling shily.

“Alright,” he said, “we’re staying together.”

“Let’s drink to this!” Denver raised his glass.

“To family!” Nairobi exclaimed, and a chorus answered.

“To family,” the Professor finally answered, a broad smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> this is what they deserve. i decided to deny that s4 ever existed sue me this is my canon now.


End file.
